


Reflected In You

by MagicaDraconia16, Violettavonviolet



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Aromantic, Art, Asexuality, Canonical Character Death, Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, MIT Era, Marvel Big Bang 2020, Pre-Iron Man 1, SHIELD, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27619709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaDraconia16/pseuds/MagicaDraconia16, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violettavonviolet/pseuds/Violettavonviolet
Summary: Growing up, Tony Stark had never really had much interest in soulmates. He just... didn't see the point. So he wasn't going to go anddeliberatelylook for them.Which made it all the more surprising when he found them after learning thathis dadwas aspy. What even was his life?
Relationships: Edwin Jarvis & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Nick Fury & Tony Stark, Obadiah Stane & Tony Stark, Pre-Phil Coulson/Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68
Collections: Marvel Big Bang 2020





	Reflected In You

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the Marvel Big Bang 2020. It was supposed to be an IronAgent romance, but then Rhodey came in and took over, and it became an IronHusbands bromance instead. 
> 
> Wonderful artwork done by Violettavonviolet!

The first thing that Anthony Edward Stark learned about the soulmarks was that they caused him pain.

The mark had been on him since birth, so he hadn’t wondered at this thing decorating his chest in a range of colours ranging from black, white and grey to the full rainbow, but at some point when he was three years old, he slowly came to the realisation that, although everybody else had words and colours too, no one else had _his_ exact words and colours.

So he’d toddled off to find his father. After all, Howard was _very_ smart; surely he’d be able to explain this odd phenomenon to Tony.

Howard Stark had taken one look at the marking on his little boy’s chest and had promptly dropped into a full-on _rage_. Tony had ended up broken and bloody on the floor at his feet, shocked absolutely senseless – he’d known his father had a temper, but it had never been turned on him quite this badly before – until several of the other household occupants had come running, drawn by Howard’s yells and Tony’s piteous screams.

“Unfortunately, we don’t live in a very progressive time, young master,” Jarvis, the family butler and Tony’s primary caregiver, informed him, sadly, as he carefully wiped the blood off the young boy. “Your soul colours mean that your ‘mate is a man, and Master Stark isn’t one of those who accept that kind of pairing.”

Tony lay back listlessly in the bath, but his mind was sluggishly spinning. “There’s a choice?” he murmured, glancing down at his chest.

Jarvis paused his movements. “Well, yes, and no,” he said. “The person who says your words will always be your soulmate. Your colours reflect their sexual and romantic orientation, so it could be a platonic pairing. But even if it’s not, there’s nothing that would prevent you from finding someone else.”

“What do my colours mean?” asked Tony, shakily bringing up one arm to gently touch the darker colours.

“Well.” Jarvis gently took hold of the other arm to wash it, being careful of the fracture halfway down the boy’s forearm. “The black, white, grey and purple means that your ‘mate is asexual, which means that they very likely won’t want to have sex at all. You must never push them for it, Tony; you understand me? They won’t like it. You have to let them set the tone.”

Tony frowned, and Jarvis was abruptly reminded that for all his brilliance, the young Stark heir was still only three years old. He might have the vaguest idea of what sex was – Howard was _not_ discreet, when he wasn’t drunk – but he likely didn’t understand why anyone _would_ want it, let alone why anyone wouldn’t.

“And the rainbow?” he wanted to know. “It’s pretty,” he added, faintly, and immediately cringed as if expecting Jarvis to get angry with him.

“It is,” Jarvis assured him. “It means that your ‘mate is romantically attracted to other men. But,” he added, pulling the plug from the bath, “you don’t need to worry about it right now. You’re young, Master Tony. Plenty of time before it becomes relevant to you.”

Tony didn’t say anything as he was assisted in clambering from the bathtub, but privately, he hoped that it would never become relevant.

* * *

By the time Tony had reached thirteen, he had determined that, no matter what colours he might have, nor those that his supposed ‘mate had, he was absolutely _done_ with soulmarks and colours and just… everything.

“It’s all just nonsense anyway,” he grumbled to an aging Jarvis one day. He was in the middle of his senior year of high school, having been skipped through several grades, and couldn’t believe just how _stupid_ some of his yearmates got over their own marks. “The head cheerleader spent _three hours_ crying her eyes out one day last week because she heard her words from a member of the chess club.” He scoffed again, and reached for a slice of the apple that Jarvis was preparing for a pie.

Jarvis hummed absently and smacked him on the back of his hand when he reached for another slice before he’d even finished the first. “I’m sure they’ll work it out,” he said.

“That’s not the _point_ , Jarvis,” Tony sighed, exasperated. He boosted himself up to sit on the counter, shuffling further away from the food preparation when Jarvis gave him a pointed look. “The point is that everyone always builds up these fantastical daydreams about who their soulmate is going to be, and then they’re always disappointed when it doesn’t turn out the way they wanted it to.”

“You don’t wonder about your own?” asked Jarvis.

Tony shook his head. “It won’t make any difference what I think about it. Him,” he absently corrected himself. “I won’t know anything until I meet him, so no point in wasting time thinking about it when I could be better off thinking about literally _anything_ else.”

Jarvis gave him a sharp look that Tony couldn’t decipher but said nothing. Tony knew that Jarvis didn’t agree with him; the butler had been married to his ‘mate for over thirty years. It was a striking dichotomy to the way Howard and Maria acted – Jarvis and Ana had a tendency to be silly and soppy with each other, whereas Tony’s parents could barely stand to be in the same room as each other. Tony rather thought that if he ended up hating his own ‘mate _that much_ then they were far better off well away from each other.

“You don’t think you’ll change your mind once you’re a bit older?” Jarvis asked, absently. He finished draping the pastry over the top of the pie and picked it up to place it into the oven.

Tony had just opened his mouth to reply when Jarvis abruptly stiffened and froze. His face drained of colour, and his grip went slack, sending the pie plummeting to the floor. Tony leapt off the counter, hands reaching for the other man as he gave a harsh gasp and began to collapse.

“Ana!” Jarvis gasped out. His eyes squeezed shut as he clutched his side in pain. “Ana!”

“Shit!” was Tony’s response. He managed to catch Jarvis, but their descent to the floor was still rather less than graceful, as Tony had unfortunately not yet had the growth spurt that everyone kept promising him was coming, and Jarvis weighed more than he did. “Help!” he bellowed over his shoulder towards the kitchen doorway. “Hey! Hey, someone, anyone! I need some help in here!”

A young woman that Tony didn’t really recognise stuck her head around the doorway. Her expression was vaguely annoyed, until she spotted them on the floor. “Wha—?” she began.

“Go find someone to go find Ana Jarvis,” he demanded. “And have someone phone for an ambulance, too; she’s hurt! And get someone in here to help me with Jarvis.” The woman ducked back out, and Tony turned back to Jarvis. The other man was still clutching his side and panting heavily. “We’ll get her,” Tony tried to assure him. “She’ll be okay, Jarvis.”

He hoped.

* * *

Ana Jarvis had been found in one of the upstairs guest bedrooms, in agony from what turned out to be a burst appendix. There had been nobody else around, and she hadn’t felt any warning symptoms until the sudden bright burst of pain had surprised and incapacitated her. All the doctors agreed – if she hadn’t had her soulmate, and if Tony hadn’t been with Jarvis at the time, Ana would likely have died before anyone could discover her and call for help.

The incident did not make Tony feel any better about soulmates. He supposed they _could_ be helpful, but the odds of it were astronomical, and it didn’t really make up for all the rest of it, in his opinion. He was quite relieved to graduate from high school that summer. He’d be attending MIT in the fall, and hopefully, with older students, that would mean that less emphasis was placed on the stupid marks.

Tony was doomed to disappointment. MIT actually had a _matchmaking_ _service_ for it.

“It’s nothing but rubbish, pure and simple,” he complained to one of his roommates. His fourth, or perhaps fifth by now? He’d lost count. They were only six weeks into the semester, but none of them could stand his slightly manic behaviour whenever he got on an inventing binge – which was often – or the fact that he was so much smarter than them despite being at least four years younger. The last one had cited Tony’s attitude towards soulmarks in his request to be moved.

“How so?” the newest roommate asked, curiously. He was lounging back on his new bed, everything packed neatly away within an hour of him appearing in the room’s doorway. He was, he’d told Tony, here on a scholarship with the ROTC because he wanted to be a fighter pilot. Or a helicopter pilot. At least a pilot of _something_.

Tony flopped down onto his own bed, and then had to dig around underneath himself to pull out his small toolkit. “Because everyone thinks that meeting their ‘mate will turn everything into sunshine and roses,” he grumbled as he tossed the toolkit aside. “That they just have to meet this one person and suddenly their life will be problem-free and wonderful, like one of those trashy romance novels you can get in the dime store.”

His roommate – James, Tony thought he’d introduced himself as – studied him for a long moment, and then a wry smirk twisted his mouth. “Suppose I don’t need to guess one of the colours your ‘mate got,” he said. “I’ll keep the romance stuff to a minimum, promise.”

Tony frowned at him in confusion. “Um, not that I’m not grateful to hear that,” he began, “but what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh.” James looked abashed. “I’m sorry, did I misstep? It just sounded like you’re aromantic, but I guess I was just assuming…” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Aromantic?” Tony frowned harder. “What on earth is that? Wait—” he interrupted as James opened his mouth again. The other male closed it again.

A vague memory was coming back to Tony. He’d been very small, he thought, and Jarvis had been explaining what the colours of his chest meant. If he remembered correctly, it had been the first time that Howard had been really violent towards him. The rainbow meant his ‘mate was romantically attracted to men, but the other, duller colours…

He brushed a hand over his chest. “One of my colours means asexual,” he murmured, more to himself than to James. “Is that like aromantic?”

James nodded. “Exactly like,” he agreed. “Means you don’t feel romantic attraction. And think it’s all a load of rubbish.” He smiled to take any sting from his words.

_Well,_ Tony thought. _That sure explained a lot, didn’t it?_

__

* * *

The new information caused something inside Tony to relax a bit. If he really was aromantic, then his ‘mate would _know_ that Tony didn’t really believe in them. They’d known all his life. They’d had time to come to terms with that before actually having to meet Tony. Which meant he wouldn’t have to hide his disgust and confusion whenever _he_ finally met _them_.

It also gave him a better understanding of the asexual colours on his own mark. He definitely hadn’t understood completely when Jarvis had first explained it to him but, as he’d grown older, he’d understood it even less. How on earth could anyone _not_ want to bang a pretty girl? Of course, he was still a virgin – nobody in high school had been desperate enough to risk being arrested for statutory rape – but he had eyes, damn it. There were nights when his dreams were full of pretty young women all begging to be his first, hands roaming everywhere and then some.

Rhodey, as his roommate had become, had kindly not mentioned the fact that he’d had to buy a set of noise-cancelling headphones to wear to bed at night after he got sick of being constantly woken up by Tony’s lustful moaning.

But perhaps these dull colours on his chest meant that his ‘mate felt the same way towards sex as Tony did towards romance, felt the same disgust and confusion over why anyone would _want_ to act that way, felt that it was all a load of rubbish that people made a lot of unnecessary fuss over, felt that they wanted nothing to do with it.

_Perhaps we’re not that different after all_ , he thought to himself, and couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

Of course, it didn’t stop him from experimenting with whichever girl would let him. Rhodey turned out to have a _massive_ mama bear complex when it came to his younger roommate, and constantly gave the stink-eye to whichever girl cuddled up to Tony, but Tony wasn’t stupid; he knew that the draw was most likely his fame. Or his money. The media had been following him ever since he was born, and even a simple trip to a clothing store was blown up into a full-page article. All these girls thought that they’d get in on the ground floor, as it were. No doubt all those fancy tales about the ‘first time’ being special made them think that they’d have a chance to grab everything their little hearts desired.

They were doomed to disappointment, but Tony wasn’t going to protest them _trying_. He might not go for the romance stuff, but he discovered that he well and truly enjoyed sex, in whatever form he could get it. Rhodey always came charging in to save him from the worst excesses, but reluctantly learnt to roll his eyes and ignore it whenever he found Tony making out with yet another girl in their room.

And then Tony discovered _boys_ , and threw himself just as enthusiastically into that scene as well.

“You’re being careful, right?” was all Rhodey said, several days after the announcement of Tom Fogerty’s death from AIDS. That had been a terrible shock.

“Of course I am, Platypus,” Tony reassured him, and it wasn’t even a lie. He’d been careful with all the women he’d been sleeping with, once it got that far, because he hadn’t wanted to risk any chance of a paternity suit; not least of which because Howard would have out and out killed him for it. The habit had just sort of… carried over when the first male had turned his head. “Don’t worry; you won’t get rid of me that easily!”

“Ugh, _why_ do you insist on calling me that?” Rhodey demanded, scowling at Tony.

Tony gave him a wide, cheeky grin. “Because it annoys you so much!” he chirped, and ducked away, laughing, from the attempted swat Rhodey aimed at him.

* * *

By the time Tony turned seventeen a year later, his reputation as a playboy was _exceedingly_ well established. It didn’t seem to deter anyone, though, as there was always a small crowd of people hoping to be the one invited to share Tony’s bed that night for however long he allowed it.

Of course, there were always the accompanying rumours of his callousness towards his bed partners, that he used them and then tossed them aside like garbage. Tony just shrugged it all off as sour grapes, although Rhodey had gotten into fights with several people because of it.

“If you’re not careful, honeybear, people are going to start suggesting that _we’re_ soulmates,” Tony warned him.

“I don’t give a shit about that,” Rhodey retorted, slinging a companionable arm around Tony’s shoulders. “You and me, and our soulmates, know different, and that’s all that matters.”

Tony gave a careless shrug, but couldn’t hide the fact that he was pleased that Rhodey hadn’t gone running for the hills yet. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said, airily. He glanced around the computer sciences lab they were holed up in. “You ready for this?” he asked.

“You bet.” Rhodey reached for a nearby fire extinguisher and brandished it. “Go ahead, press that button!”

Smirking at his friend, Tony shook his head and made a big production out of hitting the enter key. He’d been working on this code for almost eighteen months now, and now was the moment of truth – had he managed to get everything right, or had he screwed it up completely? He was faintly worried it would turn out to be the latter; he'd been _very_ drunk when he’d written the last of the coding two nights previously.

It seemed at first that his fears were going to prove correct, as nothing appeared to happen. And then, slowly, the robotic arm in front of them began to stir. It looked _exactly_ like someone coming slowly awake, as the arm rose upwards and the claw at the end opened and closed a few times, almost as if it were blinking.

Once it was at face-level, the claw twisted and opened wide enough that the camera embedded in the middle of it could clearly see both Tony and Rhodey, who were holding their breath.

It clearly glanced back and forth between them, then the robot gave an enquiring beep.

Its audience erupted into wild whoops and cheers.

“It works!” they screamed, clutching at each other and dancing in a circle. The robot beeped again, happily, and lowered its arm again. They were too excited to notice that it was now examining the fire extinguisher which Rhodey had dropped in his glee.

They _did_ notice, however, when they were abruptly doused with an upward burst of fire suppression foam.

“Ack—dummy—what—doing?” Tony spluttered.

The robot lifted its arm to examine them again and beeped in a satisfied manner.

* * *

“Hey, what are you doing for Christmas?” Rhodey asked in the middle of December on their way back from a trip to the nearby pizza place. “My mom keeps asking when you’re coming to visit her again.”

Tony snorted. “Well, who am I to deny Mama Rhodes?” he asked, rhetorically. “Not, as it happens, that I had amazing, news-worthy plans that I absolutely _cannot_ ditch.”

“Oh, good.” Rhodey pretended to wipe sweat off his forehead. “Believe me, you do _not_ want to disappoint my mom _again_ —”

“Hey, look,” Tony interrupted. He pointed at the entrance to their dorm building. “That’s Obie’s car. What’s he doing here?”

Rhodey immediately scowled. He had taken a great dislike to Obadiah Stane although, out of respect for Tony’s fondness for the man, he wasn’t as vocal about it as he’d clearly like to be. Tony had no idea precisely _why_ his best friend didn’t like his godfather; sure, the man could be a bit heavy-handed at times, but he was a good man.

“Hi, Obie!” Tony called as they got nearer to the car and the man leaning against it. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh-oh,” Rhodey said quietly from behind him. “Tony.” He placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder to draw him to a halt.

Puzzled, Tony glanced back at him. “What?” he wondered, and followed Rhodey’s gaze.

There was a very obvious cop car parked behind Obadiah’s.

“Did you get arrested for speeding or something?” Tony joked to Obadiah, but the other man’s expression didn’t change from the grim cast it was set in, and Tony felt the first shiver of unease travel through him. “Obie?” he queried, haltingly.

“Tony, my boy,” Obadiah said, just as two police officers exited their car.

“Sir,” one of them said to Obadiah, “please, let us handle this.” Obadiah scowled but folded his arms over his chest.

“Mr Stark?” the other officer asked Tony. “Mr Anthony Stark?”

“Tony,” Tony said, faintly. He tried to smirk at them but something about their demeanour gave him pause and his mouth wouldn’t move the way he wanted it to. “Yeah, th-that’s me.”

The first officer stepped closer. “Is there somewhere we could go inside?” he asked.

“Say it,” said Rhodey from behind Tony. His grip tightened on Tony’s shoulder. “Whatever you have to tell him, just say it. Straight out.”

The two officers glanced at each other, but then the first one nodded and stepped back again. The second one took a breath and squared his shoulders as he looked Tony dead in the eyes. “I’m very sorry, Mr Stark, but I regret to inform you that your parents were killed in a car accident last night.”

“No.” Tony took a step back, and bumped into Rhodey, who changed his grip to slide his arm around Tony in a half-hug. “No, that’s—you’re wrong!” he insisted, his breath hitching in the middle. “You’ve got the wrong guy, or, or-or it’s not them.”

“Tony.” Obadiah’s voice boomed out, a loud blast of sound in the deafening silence that had fallen over Tony. “I identified the bodies myself.”

Tony shook his head frantically and turned as if to run – although he had no idea where on earth he was planning to run _to_ ; all the way back home to New York? – but was gathered against Rhodey before he could take a step. He clutched at his friend as his head spun, vaguely aware that Rhodey was murmuring into his ear. No doubt it was supposed to be comforting, but Tony wasn’t listening.

It couldn’t be true. The officers had to have made a mistake, that was all. They’d gotten the wrong Anthony Stark. And Obie had… identified the wrong bodies. Sure, that was what had happened. His parents couldn’t be gone. Not like that. Not without giving Tony a chance to say goodbye, or ‘I love you, Mom’, or ‘Are you ever gonna be proud of me, Dad?’.

The tone of Rhodey’s voice changed, and Tony absently realised he was speaking to the police officers. Obadiah’s voice rumbled out again, and this time Rhodey’s snapped out reply made it through the fog cushioning the inside of Tony’s head. “He’ll deal with it _tomorrow_!” Rhodey snarled. He gently levered Tony off of himself and steered him in the direction of their dorm building.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Obadiah glaring fiercely at Rhodey. Or maybe that was _him_ Obie was glaring at. After all, _Stark men are made of iron_ , as Howard was overly fond of parroting at him. He’d be so disappointed in the way that Tony was acting now, what if Obie reported it back to him…?

His thoughts screeched to a halt, and Tony’s body almost followed suit. Only Rhodey’s guidance kept him moving forward. Obadiah couldn’t report _anything_ back to Howard, because Howard was dead. Gone. Killed in a car accident, of all things. _What a pedestrian ending_ , Tony thought wildly, having to bite down hard on his lower lip to prevent himself from giggling hysterically. _Howard would hate knowing he died in a common traffic accident._

“Come on,” Rhodey’s voice urged, and Tony realised they’d made it back to their dorm room. Rhodey was guiding him towards a bed and directing him to sit on it. “There. Just… wait there a sec.” Rhodey’s hands disappeared and Tony swayed with the lack of support. He allowed himself to slump sideways, then rolled over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling.

“They’re gone,” he whispered out loud, testing the words out loud. No, that wasn’t right. “They’re dead. My parents are dead.”

“I’m so sorry, Tones.” The bed dipped beside him as Rhodey reappeared. He settled himself at the head of the bed and draped a blanket over Tony. It was one that his mom had sent him for Christmas the previous year, a festive looking thing of bright red and green. The only thing that Tony’s mom had sent was an invitation to the opening night gala of her new fundraising charity foundation.

Tony’s breath hitched as he realised he wouldn’t be getting one of those again. Not signed by Maria, at least. Not personally. He wouldn’t be getting _anything_ from Maria ever again. He wouldn’t be hearing her voice, seeing whatever glamorous dress she’d donned for whatever particular event she was attending. Wouldn’t be granted the rare privilege of a brief hug and getting smothered by a cloud of her favourite perfume.

His breath hitched again, once, twice, and then he was pressing his face into Rhodey’s hip and full-on sobbing. His friend curled his arm over Tony’s shoulders and bent over to whisper soothing nonsense into his ear. He didn’t once protest Tony getting snot all over him.

As his sobbing gradually slowed and his breathing evened out into the beginnings of exhausted sleep, Tony vaguely wished that he and Rhodey had been soulmates after all.

* * *

The funeral was held, fittingly enough, on a day that was raining heavily. Tony wondered idly what would happen if one of the cars happened to get stuck in the mud. He didn’t voice the thought, though. Obadiah was standing beside him with his hand gripping tightly onto Tony’s shoulder. He rather thought it was so Obie could make certain that Tony wouldn’t do or say anything – like imagine cars stuck in the mud – to embarrass him in front of all the dignitaries that had turned out to witness Howard’s final moments.

Rhodey was standing on his other side, close enough that their arms were brushing each other. Yet again, Tony silently thanked god for Rhodey. His friend hadn’t left him alone for longer than it took to go to the bathroom ever since the day they’d heard the news. Tony was fairly certain that Rhodey’s professors would have had something very unpleasant to say about that if he hadn’t been helping the _Stark heir_ , the one that now owned _everything_. He wasn’t going to complain too much; he’d desperately needed Rhodey’s support, especially in those first few days.

“Drunk driving,” Obadiah had told him three days later, when Rhodey had finally allowed Tony to speak to him. “Seems they were going on holiday and Howard was his usual self and wrapped the car around a tree. Backwater little road; god knows where the hell they were going. Lucky anyone found them at all, let alone so quickly.”

Tony had almost thrown up at that, imagining his mother – his mother’s _body_ – lying out in the middle of nowhere until the flesh was scoured from her bones. Rhodey had grabbed the phone from his hand and all but slammed it down, viciously unrepentant about hanging up on Obadiah. He hadn’t allowed contact again until the day before the funeral.

Obadiah’s grip tightened, bringing him back to awareness. It appeared the service was almost over; the priest was offering a small dish of soil in his direction. Numbly, Tony took a pinch of it and stepped forward to drop it into the open grave. Light bulbs flashed in tandem as he opened his fingers and let the soil fall, pattering off the smooth finish of the coffin like heavier raindrops. The next day’s front page photos being taken, no doubt.

Obadiah patted Tony heavily on the shoulder as he took his own step forward, almost causing Tony’s knees to buckle under the force of it. Rhodey caught him by the arm, supporting him, and shook his head at the dish of soil being offered to him.

“Thanks,” Tony murmured to him.

“I’d say anytime, but…” Rhodey murmured back, tailing off into a shrug.

The priest finally finished whatever he was saying and turned to drift away after a brief word with Obadiah. _Did priests require payment?_ Tony wondered, somewhat hysterically.

“Well, that’s that over,” said Obadiah, turning back to Tony. He reached out to pat Tony on the shoulder again, but Rhodey did something – Tony had no idea what, it was very miniscule – and Obadiah’s hand _just_ missed Tony. Obie’s lips thinned in annoyance, but he refrained from saying anything out loud. “C’mon, Tony, my boy. Time for the wake.”

“…Sure,” Tony said, after a moment, when it became clear that Obadiah was expecting him to actually move towards the idling cars. “I’ll just – be a moment.”

“Oh, of course, of course!” Obadiah boomed. Tony cringed, casting a quick glance around them, but nobody else was close enough to be disturbed. “Take all the time you need, m’boy!” He waved at somebody over Tony’s shoulder. “Alex! Glad you could make it…”

Rhodey turned to watch him stride off, as though worried that he’d do something to them. “Are you okay?” he asked Tony, once he was satisfied that Obadiah really was occupied elsewhere. “I mean, obviously not, but—”

“I’m fine,” Tony interrupted, and gave his friend a weak smile. “I just… don’t think I can manage the wake, honeybear. You know I hate being in the mansion.”

“We’ll manage,” Rhodey assured him, wrapping his arm around Tony’s shoulders and directing them towards the line of cars. “All you have to do is show your face for a few minutes, let people see you there, then we can sneak out the back and head for the nearest bar or something.”

Tony gave a mock gasp. “Platypus!” he exclaimed. “Are you actually _suggesting_ that we get drunk?”

“Just this once,” said Rhodey, sternly. “ _Only_ this once, Tones! I think, today, we deserve it.”

Well, Tony couldn’t argue with that.

* * *

The paperwork that Howard had left behind was an absolute _bitch_ to sort out.

“Where the hell is all of this coming from?” Tony demanded in exasperation, tossing yet another handful of folders onto the growing pile on what had been his father’s desk and was now his. The files landed on top of the others, wobbled unsteadily, and then the entire lot slid slowly sideways and fell off the desk. “Damn it!”

Rhodey was shifting through yet another filing cabinet. This one had been discovered behind a false wall, which had only been activated when Tony had tried to empty out the bookcase in front of it. Tugging on what seemed to be a particularly stubbornly stuck book, he had almost fallen over backwards when a deep _snickt!_ had sounded and the case had slid back and sideways. The two of them had gaped at the space revealed, until Tony abruptly burst out into a rant at the absolute _cliché_ of the entire thing.

“Your dad was involved in Project Rebirth?” Rhodey asked, suddenly, looking up from the paper he’d been studying. “He knew Captain America?”

“Yeah.” Tony scowled. “He spent a goodly portion of my childhood in the Arctic, searching for the Valkyrie’s remains. Unsuccessfully, obviously.”

“Hmm.” Rhodey glanced back down and flipped a page. “What’s SHIELD?” he asked.

“You mean that thing that people use to defend themselves?” Tony asked, sarcastically.

Rhodey flipped him off. “No. This paper here…” His voice trailed off as he read further. “…is a memo stating that Howard’s due to sign his annual NDA regarding SHIELD.”

“What?” Tony scrambled across the room to grab the paper for himself. It was just as Rhodey had said, on a letterheaded paper with a logo that Tony had never seen before. “I… have no idea what on earth SHIELD is, or could be,” he said, puzzled. “Is there anything else in that cabinet that mentions it?”

“Haven’t seen anything yet,” Rhodey told him. “But there’s still a ton of paperwork to get through.”

His curiosity thoroughly riled up now, Tony settled down beside his friend to begin making inroads into the paperwork. They found several SHIELD reports – heavily redacted – but nothing substantial to explain what it was, or why Howard had paperwork about it.

“Seriously, what on earth was Howard _doing_?” complained Tony as they reached the end of the cabinet. “And when did he have time to do it? He spent most of his time at SI.”

“Seems apparently not,” Rhodey retorted. He frowned at the cabinet, leant backwards to study the side of it, then straightened up again. “Hey, Tones, does this drawer seem a bit… wonky, to you?”

“‘Wonky’? Is that a technical term?” Tony joked, but he turned to squint at the cabinet himself, studying it with an engineer’s eye. And Rhodey was right; the open drawer they were looking at wasn’t long enough to fit the cabinet’s length. If Tony was judging it right, there was a good six inches between the back of the drawer and the back of the cabinet. “Hmm. Can we pull that drawer out?” he wondered, and tugged on it.

The drawer slid neatly until three-quarters of it was outside but then it stopped as if it had reached the end. Tony tugged again, harder, and the cabinet rocked forward. The drawer, however, didn’t budge any further.

Rhodey pulled out the drawer underneath it. _That_ one slid right out as if the rail was greased with butter. “Can you see anything behind it now?” he suggested.

Tony ducked his head to peer into the gap, but the back of the filing cabinet was too dark. “No,” he said, straightening up again. “Can you get the one above this one?” Rhodey tried, but that drawer didn’t come out any further than the stuck one. Tony frowned at the cabinet. “I think we’re going to have to take it apart,” he said. “Hang on.” He pulled himself upright and headed back towards Howard’s desk.

One of the desk drawers had produced a small toolkit. Tony had vaguely wondered at the time what on earth Howard had it in his study for, since he had a whole workshop or two – or several, if you counted the ones at SI buildings – to keep toolkits in, and he never seemed to do any engineering work outside of them.

“I wonder if Howard had to go through this every time he wanted to get into this thing,” Tony pondered out loud as he retrieved the toolkit and crouched beside Rhodey again.

“Surely not,” Rhodey protested. “What’s the point of having a secret hiding place if you can’t get in it whenever you need to?”

“Maybe he didn’t need to very often,” said Tony as he examined the back of the filing cabinet. “Ah ha!” He selected a screwdriver from the kit and got to work on the tiny screws he’d located.

It took over an hour to completely dismantle the filing cabinet, but once they did, they were left with a small metal box, that had no visible opening that they could see.

“How the hell does this thing work?” Tony banged a fist on it in exasperation.

To their surprise, the top of the box immediately rippled with a blue light, and then the entire thing unfurled like a flower, showing a thick file of paperwork in the middle of it.

Tony carefully flipped over the front cover. The top page was mostly taken up with a bigger image of the logo they’d found on the memo letterhead. “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division,” he read out loud. “What the hell?” He looked up at Rhodey in slack-jawed confusion. “My dad was a _spy_?!”

* * *

Two days later found them standing on the outskirts of a football field-sized area that was coated in gravel and absolutely decimated of any trees, shrubs or even weeds. Smack in the middle of the plot of land was a tiny shack that looked one good breath away from falling down.

It did not, in any shape or form, look like the headquarters for what was basically a spy agency.

“You sure we’re in the right place?” asked Rhodey, dubiously eyeing their surroundings.

“Not really,” Tony admitted, doing some dubious eyeing of his own. “But this is where the coordinates led, so…”

“If you say so. So what’s the plan?” Rhodey wanted to know.

Tony hesitated, then shrugged. “We walk right in?” he said.

Rhodey turned that dubious eye on _him_. “You wanna try that again with more confidence?” he suggested, dryly. “Also, say _what_? You don’t have a better plan to get into the headquarters of a super secret spy agency other than just ‘ _walk right in_ ’?”

“Nope,” agreed Tony, cheerfully. He strode forward, inwardly hoping and praying that he wasn’t about to be obliterated to kingdom come. “You coming?” he called over his shoulder.

“God damn it, never trust a white boy,” Rhodey muttered, before hurrying after him. “I get shanked first, I’m comin’ back to haunt your ass,” he threatened.

Tony laughed; he couldn’t help it. “Relax,” he soothed. “You won’t get shanked.” He paused and then added, “You’ll just get tossed into the deepest, darkest hole they’ve got until even your grandkids forget you.” He grinned at Rhodey.

“Asshole,” Rhodey said, laughing, and bumped shoulders.

The shack, when they reached it, didn’t even have a padlock on the door. They were able to walk right in to the small room, where a circular glass elevator in the middle of it greeted them.

“Seriously?” Rhodey prowled around the elevator, looking baffled. “They just have this thing right out here in the open for anyone to use?”

“There has to be better security inside it,” said Tony. He pressed the button and the doors slid obligingly open for him. “Right?”

“Right,” said Rhodey, doubtfully, as they stepped inside.

The door slid shut, and for a moment nothing appeared to happen. And then, just as Tony was about to open the doors to let them out again, the air around them shimmered.

“DNA match confirmed,” a cool female voice said from out of nowhere. Both Rhodey and Tony would deny to their dying day that they shrieked and clutched at each other like girls. “Stark, Anthony Edward. Rhodes, James Rupert. Entrance granted.” The elevator slid downwards into the floor, plunging them into pitch blackness for a moment before small lights in the ceiling of the elevator lit up.

“Tones,” Rhodey murmured in the quietest voice he could muster, “how do they have my DNA to confirm a match?”

Tony could only shake his head. He had no idea. Howard had only met Rhodey once; Rhodey had been so angry at him due to his treatment of Tony that he’d never accepted any invitation to visit the Stark mansion unless he knew Howard was busy somewhere on the other side of the globe. As far as Tony was aware, they’d only shaken hands once, at the very beginning of the visit when Tony had introduced Rhodey to his father.

“I’d like to know why they have _my_ DNA on file,” he muttered back. “Obviously Howard gave it to them, but he never told me a thing about this place, and it didn’t seem like he planned to any time soon. So why grant me permission to enter?”

The elevator reached the end of the shaft so seamlessly that they didn’t realise it had stopped until the doors slid open. It opened onto a long hallway done in blinding white that stretched ahead of them for a very long way.

“This looks like the setting for every sci-fi horror film ever made,” Rhodey complained as they carefully exited the elevator. “Whatever happens, we are _not_ splitting up!”

“Relax, sour patch,” Tony said. “We’re not gonna split up; what would I do without my meat shield here to protect me?”

“I hate you,” grumbled Rhodey, but he was still right beside Tony as they cautiously moved along the hallway. There were no doors, which was yet another point against this spy agency – really, were they _trying_ to hit every cliché that ever was?

The hallway abruptly became a cross-junction with another hallway, that looked equally long, equally white, and equally doorless in both directions. The only difference was a large black door at the far end to the right. Tony gestured at it and glanced at Rhodey, who responded with a shrug. For lack of any other option, they turned into the right-hand hallway.

It turned out to be not as doorless as they’d thought. They were barely halfway down it when what seemed to be part of the wall slid soundlessly sideways, and a man in a smart black suit stepped out. All three of them came to a dead stop upon seeing each other.

The man in black gave them both a quizzical look, although his expression remained almost scarily calm. “Pardon me, sirs, are you lost?” he asked. Tony felt his eyes going wide, and Rhodey made a small noise of surprise. “I can show you the way out if necessary.”

This man, apparently some kind of secret agent for a super secret spy agency that Tony had never heard of before this week, had just uttered Tony’s soulmark.

Tony exchanged astonished glances with Rhodey. “Well, _shit_ ,” he said, turning back to the supposed agent. “No, we’re definitely not lost, but if you should show me some ID, Agent Man, that’d be great.”

The agent’s eyebrows rose. Tony suspected that, from anyone else, it was the equivalent of jaw-dropping surprise. “I… see,” the man said, and absently reached up as if to brush down his tie. Tony wasn’t surprised to notice, though, that the man’s fingers brushed over where his own soulmark would be. He also didn’t seem to be reaching for any official identification to show them, either.

The wall behind the man slid open again, and yet another man, this one Black, stepped out. He was also dressed in a suit, although the jacket was open and his tie was loose around his neck. He scowled at all three of them. “What is this?” he demanded of the first agent. “We holding open days now? Don’t just stand there; get rid of them! How did they even get in here in the first place?”

“We’re in your security protocols,” Tony informed him, taking great relish in the way the other man’s scowl deepened. “Door opened right up for us.”

“Open Sesame,” Rhodey agreed.

“That’s not possible,” the man said, folding his arms. “ _I_ am the one who gives people permission to enter our facility, and I may be getting older, but not so old that I just randomly _forget_ what I’m doing and give complete _strangers_ access to our _top-secret facility_!”

“Guess it’s not that top secret.” Tony pretended to examine his fingernails. “After all, someone else added us right in.”

The second agent dropped his arms and took a step forward to loom over them, menacingly. Or, at least, he tried to. Unfortunately for him, Tony had spent half his childhood being kidnapped and the goons doing it had always loomed over him in an attempt to scare him into pleading with his father for ransom. It had never worked; neither the pleading nor the intimidation. And compared to _Howard’s_ looming… well, this guy was shit out of luck.

Tony gave him a beaming smile.

The agent actually _growled_ at him, then sharply turned to re-enter the room he’d just come from. “Coulson, show these… _gentlemen_ where the exit is,” he snapped.

“I, ah, wouldn’t do that,” Rhodey advised, wincing.

“And why not?” the agent demanded, whirling back on them.

Tony upped his smile a notch. “Because I’m Tony Stark, and I haven’t met a system yet that I can’t hack into,” he said. “Not that I’m bragging, or anything,” he added to Rhodey, who snorted at him.

The agent went still, and the first agent gave the same impression, although he still hadn’t moved an inch since he’d spotted them. “Tony Stark?” the second agent – and obviously the one in charge – asked. “As in – _Howard_ Stark’s son?”

“So you _have_ heard of me!” Tony exclaimed, delighted. “Yep, that’s me! Oh, er… you _do_ know about Howard, don’t you?” he added, the thought suddenly striking him that maybe they _didn’t_ know. Howard had kept their knowledge a deep, dark secret; maybe they weren’t up to date on his life. Death. Whatever. Maybe they weren’t keeping tabs on him, was the point Tony was trying to make.

“What about Howard?” the agent demanded.

Rhodey and Tony exchanged glances. “Howard and Maria Stark are dead,” Rhodey said, giving Tony’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze as he did so. “Died in a car crash a couple of weeks ago. Funeral was just last week.”

“Oh.” The second agent’s expression fell. “No, we did not know that.”

“Sorry for your loss,” the first one added. Tony gave him a brief nod.

The second agent turned again for the hidden room. “Coulson, you can deal with Mr Stark and his… friend,” he said over his shoulder. “I have to go update the Council. How on _earth_ did we miss that?” Tony heard him muttering to himself as the door closed behind him.

The remaining agent – Coulson – eyed them both for a moment. Tony wondered if he was deciding whether ‘deal with them’ meant ‘toss them out on their asses’ or ‘bury their bodies in a hole so deep no one will ever find them’. He was _fairly_ sure the agent wouldn’t go for that last option, what with them being soulmates and all, but then again, that was never a guarantee of anything.

“This way,” Coulson said, abruptly, and led them back down the hallway they’d come up.

“And where are we going?” asked Rhodey.

“To one of the debriefing rooms,” Coulson said, smiling back at them blandly. “Can I get you gentlemen a drink? This will take a while.”

* * *

Agent Coulson was apparently the king of understatement. Their little debrief took over three hours before he abruptly announced that anything else he could tell them was above their security clearance, and if he said anything further, he’d have to kill them.

He was smiling pleasantly as he said it, but he did _not_ appear to be joking.

“Wow,” Rhodey said, once he and Tony were back on the sidewalk where they’d started from and hopefully well out of range of any security devices. “That was… not fun.”

“You know, I can’t decide whether I’m surprised or not that Agent is asexual,” Tony said as they walked back towards where they’d parked their car. Tony usually had a driver, but they hadn’t wanted word of their interest in this place to get out until they were certain of what it was. “I mean, on the one hand, he looks as though even the very _idea_ of sex would muss his shirt, and yet, sometimes façades like that can hide the most passionate people.”

Rhodey pulled a face. “I do _not_ want to know about your sex life. Or your soulmate’s,” he said as they reached the car. “And you do know they likely bugged the car, right?”

“Ex _cuse_ you, I am a _literal_ genius,” Tony said in mock-offense. “Of course I’m aware they bugged the car. That’s why there’s another one around the corner that I had brought here just after we found the paperwork. I’ll send someone to fetch this one later.”

Rhodey threw his head back and laughed. “Of course you did,” he said fondly, once he’d calmed. Tony directed their steps towards the other car that had been left for them. “So…” Rhodey began as they climbed into it. “I, uh, will have to leave in a few hours if I want to make my flight. Mom will kill me if I miss Christmas.”

“Oh.” Tony’s heart sank. He’d lost track of the date, and had forgotten it was almost Christmas Day. Of course Rhodey had to leave – he’d already been planning it and had put things off to help Tony – but Tony didn’t want to spend what was supposed to be a time for families rattling around alone in that empty mansion.

Not that his family had ever spent the time together before, but it was the thought that counted.

Rhodey looked at him and shook his head. “You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?” he asked, rhetorically. Tony gave him a quizzical look as he started the car. “I invited you to come _with me_ ,” Rhodey reminded him. “’Member? You said you didn’t see how you could deny my mama…”

“Oh,” Tony repeated, in a very different tone. He _had_ forgotten; the ensuing events had left that specific time period a blur of fog and numbness. “Well, if the invitation still stands,” he said, “then really, who _am_ I to deny Mama Rhodes?”

“That’s right,” Rhodey said, firmly, nodding. “ _Nobody_ denies Mama Rhodes.”

* * *

Mama Rhodes was a short, skinny woman who never seemed to stop talking and who took no nonsense from anybody. The hug she gave Tony when they first arrived at the Rhodes house made him feel like he’d been enveloped in a soft, warm blanket. He was always amazed at Mama Rhodes’ ability to do this, as the woman was shorter than him by at least a head. Rhodey always joked that he was surprised to find _anyone_ shorter than Tony, which was, as Tony consistently pointed out with his nose in the air, _very rude_. He just hadn’t hit his last growth spurt yet, that was all.

“Oh, my boy, I’m so sorry,” Mama Rhodes said into Tony’s shoulder.

He sighed and allowed himself to relax the tiniest bit. “Thanks, Mama Rhodes,” he replied. “I couldn’t have got through things without my Platypus.”

“Jim is a good boy,” the woman agreed, smugly. “Taught him everything he knows.” Unseen behind her back, Rhodey fondly rolled his eyes. Mama Rhodes reluctantly let go of Tony, holding him away from herself so that she could eye him up and down like a piece of meat in a supermarket. “You’re too skinny,” she proclaimed, as she always did. “You need to eat more.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Tony protested, as _he_ always did.

“Dinner will be in half an hour. You can sit beside me,” said Mama Rhodes, steamrollering right over him. “Until then, everyone else is in the lounge.” She turned him in that direction – as if he didn’t know where it was by now – and then bustled off to the kitchen, which was emitting something that smelled _heavenly_.

“Rhodey, save me from your mother,” Tony begged as Rhodey pushed him towards the lounge. “I don’t want to be stuffed like a Christmas turkey!”

Rhodey just laughed at him, the asshole. “Sorry, Tones. There’s no way I’m getting between my mom and someone she wants to feed up!” he said.

“I hate you,” Tony muttered, just before he was absorbed into the Rhodes family chaos and mayhem.

* * *

He really wasn’t all that surprised when he returned home a few days later and discovered Agent Coulson standing at parade rest on the front porch of the mansion.

“Mr Stark,” the agent greeted him before Tony could even open his mouth. “I hope you had a pleasant time in Philadelphia with the Rhodes family.”

“Normally, I’d say that’s creepy,” Tony informed him, pointing a finger at the other man. “But considering Howard somehow managed to get Rhodey’s DNA without either of us knowing, then I’m not surprised you know where I was.”

“We have our ways,” Coulson said, placidly. He gave a faint smile when Tony shot a sharp glance at him. “Perhaps we could go inside?” he suggested. “I think we have something to talk about.”

Shrugging, Tony reached around him to push on the handle of the front door. It opened easily. “It wasn’t locked,” he pointed out. “I’m surprised you waited out here. Would have thought lurking inside in the dark was more your style.”

“No, that’s what Agent Fury prefers,” Coulson corrected, following him inside. “I prefer to ambush people outside.”

“Uh-huh.” Tony eyed the agent sceptically. “I guess I know what you want to discuss,” he said, finally. “We’re soulmates.”

Coulson glanced idly around the foyer before looking back at Tony. His body language remained as calm as ever, and Tony couldn’t help but wonder just what it would take to rile this man up enough to show actual emotion. “Yes, we are,” the agent said. “But that doesn’t mean we’re romantic partners. I’m asexual.”

“And I’m aromantic,” Tony pointed out. “But my colours would have shown you that. So just what is your point here, Agent Man? I don’t do romance, you don’t do sex, so where does that leave us?”

Abruptly, Coulson sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Everything I’ve ever read about soulmates suggests that they should be compatible. At least somewhat, if not totally. But we don’t seem to match anywhere.”

It felt almost like that same horrible night several weeks ago, as yet again a cold sense of dread filled Tony. His soulmate was basically saying that he didn’t think they belonged together, that he didn’t want Tony. Yet again, Tony just wasn’t _good_ enough, wasn’t _normal_.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he snarled, desperately hoping it came across as furious, rather than the aching, clawing regret it actually was. “You know where the door is, Agent Coulson. Don’t bother to come back.” He stormed out of the entrance hall, knocking his shoulder against Coulson’s as he did so.

He didn’t want to hear the agent go.

“Wait!” A hand caught his upper arm and spun him round, his momentum causing him to crash into the body behind him. Coulson barely even wobbled, obviously prepared for that, and steadied him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” the agent said. “I just… don’t know how we can reconcile your preferences and mine into something that would make _both_ of us happy.” He suddenly gave Tony another once-over and smirked. “Even if I do have more experience than you do.”

“Hey!” Tony spluttered, indignantly. He had _plenty_ experience, thank you very much!

Coulson’s grip loosened, and he slid his hand down Tony’s arm as though aiming to take hold of Tony’s hand. Before Tony had to worry about that, Coulson removed his hand completely, sighing again. “Look,” the agent started again, “we barely know each other right now. So perhaps we should think about that first before attempting anything else.”

“You want to be friends,” Tony said, dubiously. Up until now, the only person who wanted to be actual friends with him had been Rhodey. Most everyone else wanted fame, or money, or _things_ , from him.

“I think it’s a good place to start,” Coulson said.

Tony rather thought he’d be surprised if it ever continued, let alone started, but Coulson would discover the truth soon enough. Being Tony’s friend was _hard_. Rhodey deserved a medal for sticking it out this long.

“Okay,” he agreed. “We can start with that.”

He just hoped it didn’t all end in tears.

* * *

“What are you _doing_ , man?” Rhodey hissed at him, giving him a sharp nudge in the side with a pointy elbow. “You’re supposed to be listening to Mister Big Muck up there.”

“Oh, please,” Tony hissed back. “I’ve heard Senator Darling give speeches hundreds of times; he’s never been done quicker than thirty minutes in his _life_. No one’s even paying attention to us up here – he’s put them all to sleep.” He stood on tiptoes and craned his neck again, trying to see the back of the crowd over the rows standing in front of him.

“Would you—” Rhodey yanked him back down. “Just _stop_!” he hissed, again. “It is our _graduation ceremony_ , and Mama Rhodes is out in that audience, and you can bet your ass that she is _watching for us_. You want to get a lecture from her about not being on your best behaviour?”

Tony shuddered. “Oh, god, no,” he agreed, and tried his best to shrink in on himself, hoping that Rhodey’s mom hadn’t already spotted him. “I just… I was hoping that Agent had shown up,” he murmured, wondering whether Rhodey had seen him.

“I’m still surprised he agreed to turn up in the first place,” Rhodey muttered. “Not exactly keepin’ in style with that agency of his, is it?”

“Agent Fury had a fit when I mentioned it in front of him,” Tony informed him, grinning at the memory. “Seriously thought he was going to have an aneurysm or something. Then he went off on this hour-long rant about how they were _secret agents_ and belonged in the _shadows_ and how they shouldn’t be showing up willy-nilly to some punk’s _college graduation ceremony_ , and what were they supposed to do if something happened when one of their agents was off having _fun_?”

Rhodey hastily muffled a snort into a cough that caused the people in front of them to turn around and glare nastily at him. Tony waved them off and pretended to pat his friend on the back. “Oh god,” he wheezed. “What I wouldn’t give to have seen that.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Tony assured him. “Director Keller then came through and said he hoped Coulson had a nice afternoon off. Fury was so, well, _furious_ , he couldn’t get anything else out and just stalked off instead.”

“Oh god,” Rhodey repeated, inhaling steadily through his nose in an obvious effort not to bust a gut laughing.

Tony had to chuckle himself. “Somehow, I don’t think Agent Fury likes me very much anymore,” he said, with a mock-pout. “It hurt my feelings, Rhodeybear, it really did. I don’t know how I shall ever carry on.”

“I-I’m sure C-Coulson will make up for it,” Rhodey managed to say. His voice wobbled with laughter, and Tony had to turn his head away and close his eyes. If they looked at each other, there would be no helping it; both of them were going to burst out laughing and never mind Senator Darling still droning on and on and _on_. The college administration wouldn’t be very happy with them for disrupting the service, but they were graduating so Tony wasn’t too worried about _them_. Mama Rhodes, on the other hand…

Now _there_ was a woman you didn’t cross if you could help it.

“—so I’d like to say… Well done to the graduating class of ’92!” Darling suddenly said, and the large audience burst into enthusiastic cheers. No doubt, Tony thought, relieved that the senator’s speech was _finally_ done.

It would still take a while for everyone to walk the stage. Tony was going to be the one crossing it the most – he’d thrown himself into his work as a way of avoiding his grief, to the tune of four master’s degrees at once – but he certainly wasn’t the _only_ one who’d be walking more than once.

Someone in the rows ahead shifted uncomfortably, and in the small gap that opened up, Tony abruptly had a straight line view to where Agent Coulson was standing at the back of the crowd. For once, he wasn’t wearing his ubiquitous suit but was instead in casual slacks and a button-down shirt. He wasn’t quite standing at parade rest, either, but it was close enough.

Tony felt an odd warmth course through him. He and Agent – his first name was actually Philip, but there was no way Tony would be calling him something so pedestrian as _Phil_ – had been slowly building a friendship in the six months since Rhodey and Tony had gate-crashed SHIELD’s offices. It was mostly letters, with the occasional email when Coulson was in a place that actually had a working computer, but Tony was working on a gadget that would make things a lot easier for them both.

It had been slow-going, at the start. Coulson was well aware of Tony’s reputation, and was apparently under the impression that Tony would be constantly pushing and prodding him for things he didn’t want. Tony had been downright, legitimately insulted the first time Coulson had said as much; he liked everyone on board and consenting, thank you very much. He had no need for anyone who said _no_ – there were plenty of others who were happy enough to say _yes_.

On Tony’s side, he’d been a bit… _concerned_ – no, he was _not_ worrying, Rhodey, shut up – about just how intimate Coulson expected things to get. He thought he might just about be able to handle kissing, since god knows he did plenty of it in the lead-up to sex, but he wasn’t convinced that he saw the point in anything else. What if Coulson wanted something that Tony just didn’t realise he needed, and decided that it wasn’t working out for him?

They hadn’t really discussed the matter in great detail yet – even the thought of having to deal with emotions gave Tony hives – but he suspected it would have to happen one day soon. They needed to ensure that they were on the same page before they ended up doing irreparable damage to each other.

But for now, Coulson smiled at Tony, a little quirk of his mouth that in anyone else would be a big, beaming grin, or a wild yell like Mama Rhodes was letting out as Rhodey was called to walk the stage. It didn’t surprise Tony in the least that Agent knew Tony had eyes on him now; the spy was freakishly good at his job that way.

Tony couldn’t stop himself from smiling back as that warmth in him surged again. Mama Rhodes had insisted that she was going to take both Tony and Rhodey out for a celebratory meal once this ceremony was over. He didn’t think it’d take too much convincing for her to add Coulson to the mix, too. And oh, when Coulson realised that Mama Rhodes would essentially be his mother-in-law if he and Tony actually got together…

Tony couldn’t _wait_ to see his face.

“Stark, Anthony!”

He moved on autopilot across the stage, barely remembering to shake hands with all of the dignitaries. He was too busy wondering if he could maybe convince Coulson to come back to the mansion after the meal. Bottle of wine – Agent would quibble, but Tony had turned eighteen a few weeks ago, damn it – a movie or two…

_A first date_ , he thought, and felt a squirm of excitement at the thought.

Perhaps he and his soulmate would be able to work things out, in the end. They were, after all, ‘mated for a reason.


End file.
